


Crossdressing

by Velvedere



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crossdressing, Heavy Petting, M/M, Secret Found Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 23:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvedere/pseuds/Velvedere
Summary: It wasn’t that Keith was scared of being found out. He just didn’t want anyone to know.





	Crossdressing

Keith got back to his dorm room a little after twelve.

Lunch hour at the Garrison.

He closed the door behind him and let his weight fall against it, listening to the click and mechanical whirring of the lock as it sealed into place. Quiet fell in, and he exhaled a long breath. His shoulders sagged as tension flooded from his body, and he tipped back his head. Closed his eyes. Resting.

He could imagine the mess hall just then. Flooded with cadets and Garrison faculty enjoying a break from the rigorous training program. Catching up on some well-earned nutrition. Any other day, Keith might have been there as well, but today…today he wanted to be alone. He already had a lunch prepared in his room, ready to eat in solitude and quiet. Wanting – needing – a break from being around other people.

He pushed back his hair from his face and took his weight off the door.

A small minifridge occupied a section of the floor beside the bunk beds. Keith knelt into it to pull out his meal. He set it aside, letting it thaw a few minutes before heating. In the meantime, he moved over to a dresser built into the wall in the interior of the closet, and pulled open the top drawer.

All the way out. Then he reached into the back.

A portion of what seemed to be the rear panel came loose, and from behind – after a furtive glance over each shoulder – Keith pulled out his private stash.

When it came to destressing, cadets all over the Garrison had a variety of options to choose from. There were video game clubs, extracurricular sports and martial arts, even a pool hall just off campus that served protein shakes and smoothies. While Keith did some of those too, more often he resorted to a private pasttime that the Garrison didn’t otherwise offer. One he kept a carefully guarded secret.

He opened the plastic bag with a slow, almost reverent care, unwrapping its contents and laying them out across the bottom bunk to examine, holding up one now and then against the light.

Long, satin straps. Lace-lined fabrics so sheer they were barely substantial. Bras and underwear. A halter top. A skirt.

Even in the privacy of his own room, Keith flinched and ducked the clothing back into hiding every time a noise issued outside the window. Every time steps sounded outside in the hall. The Garrison had cameras everywhere – the bunks and the bathrooms were the only places cadets had any real privacy…and bunks were still subject to random searches – and it wouldn’t do to have it known that one of their best rising pilots was a crossdresser.

Not that anyone in the Garrison would have cared. For a military installation, they were fairly open-minded. They called people whatever pronoun they preferred to be called, and didn’t care what name or gender a person was born with, or how they dressed on their own time. So long as they honed their skills and kept up with the workload and showed a dedication to the cause. That was what mattered.

It wasn’t that Keith was scared of being found out. He just didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t know why.

It wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Maybe the secrecy was half the thrill.

A tiny shiver caressed his skin as he undressed, slipped off his shirt – a clean one, he’d come straight from the showers – and replaced it with the satiny lining of a see-through bra. This one was one of his favorites: black and red triangles of support that would have been small even if he had breasts, trimmed with a barely-there lace that scraped his skin every time he raised or lowered his arm. He added a pair of matching underwear to it – low cut, bikini style – and hiked a skirt up over his hips.

He turned enough to look at himself in the mirror, one hand on his hip as he cocked it. Emphasizing his backside the most flattering way.

He smiled to himself.

It had started a few years ago, when he was still new to the Garrison.

Keith had always had a fascination with lingerie. Even when he was young, he liked to run his hands through the rows of hanging bras on a store rack. He liked the way the materials felt. How cool and light and soft they were. He could get away with it then because he was a little kid. He liked the way female underwear was designed. It had an aesthetic and style that most men’s didn’t even begin to bother with: broad and flat and white…maaaaybe mixing it up with colors now and then.

But the women’s…they were attractive.

Keith enjoyed them simply for that. No deeper reason. No childhood trauma or psychological void. He just liked the way they looked.

He didn’t get the idea to try them on himself until after coming to the Garrison, when some overly friendly fellow students – very loudly – told him he had amazing hips.

And they said something about them not lying. A reference he didn’t get.

Did he? He’d never given it much thought until he stood before a dressing room mirror in a department store, staring wide-eyed at himself in a pair of flowery boyshorts. (Why were they called ‘boyshorts’ anyway?)

Yeah. He did have pretty impressive hips.

Actually buying anything was a lot harder to do. Keith considered, for a few seconds, tucking a few things under his jacket and just walking out. But his conscience couldn’t handle the strain. For several months he got his fix just there in the store, sneaking stuff into the dressing rooms and leaving it to be resorted, safe in anonymity.

Until one day, finally, one of the clerks caught him with three pairs of tangas and a bra under his arm, ducking into one of the dressing rooms.

She probably thought he was trying to steal them.

But she’d just smiled, and winked, and said:

“Red’s your color.”

Once Keith was sure his capillaries wouldn’t explode, he came out of the dressing room again, walked up to the counter, and paid for them.

He didn’t lie. He didn’t make up some excuse about how they weren’t for him. That didn’t feel right. He didn’t say anything at all.

And the clerk didn’t ask him. Just smiled and complimented his choice and sent him on his way.

Keith’s collection expanded after that, though he usually checked to make sure that particular clerk was working before he made a purchase.

After awhile, she even started keeping a selection aside that she thought he might like.

She had good taste.

Keith looked at himself in the mirror for awhile, turning one way. Then another. Sometimes he shifted in place just to feel the fabric move against his skin. When he really wanted to relax, he would spend an extra long time in the shower, scrubbing to get rid of any excess layers of dead skin. Then he would put fresh sheets and blankets on his bed, newly cleaned, and slip into some of his favorite lingerie and just burrow himself underneath in the feel of fabrics: the whole of him one long, lanky nerve ending.

When he was sure his roommate would be out, of course.

He wove both hands up into his hair and lifted it up off his neck, posing with his hips turned halfway to the side, making one long, uninterrupted line of his body.

He liked the fabrics and straps. He liked the way they felt. He liked the way they made him feel.

He wondered how he would look with makeup added into the mix?

A click sounded behind him, and Keith’s heart leapt into his throat. For a split second it hesitated to beat, then froze entirely as the door swished open, and Shiro stepped inside.

Keith didn’t turn around, watching from the reflection in the mirror.

Shiro had the air and sound about him like he was going to say something. Probably an apology for intruding, if Keith knew him, but Shiro didn’t get more than halfway into the room before he stopped too. Frozen. Staring. One hand still on the door.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Shiro made an effort to swallow against a tight throat. He shut his mouth from where it had been hanging open.

“Uhh…s-sorry, Keith,” he stammered, trying to smile. “I didn’t know you were…erm…”

Keith’s scowl at him could have wilted flowers. Shiro had been promoted to faculty recently. He had his own private bunk in the wing with the rest of the officers. But Keith had given him the passcode to his room shortly after they started…whatever it was they had started. ‘Seeing each other’ sounded too formal. He’d given it to him ever since they needed to find as many places as they could where they could be alone. Together.

Shiro lingered halfway in through the door, his eyes searching as he tried to find the right words.

“In or out, Shiro!” Keith snapped.

“Oh! Right.” Shiro jerked back to life and stepped the rest of the way inside, sealing the door behind him before anyone else chanced to see.

Keith’s tension eased the barest amount.

“Sorry,” Shiro still apologized, rubbing the back of his neck and ducking his head. “I…uhh…I came back to get my…err, something…I left it here…”

Keith raised his arms to hug himself, blocking as much of the view as he could. He turned his back and scowled at the mirror, his eyes down at the floor, knees pressing together.

“Get whatever it is and get out,” he growled.

“O-Okay,” Shiro breathed, careful and quiet, as he glanced around the room to try and remember what it was he’d come for. Invariably his eyes were drawn back towards where Keith stood, frozen stock still. Even in the mirror he couldn’t catch his gaze, though he reached out to try.

“You look…nice,” he tried.

Keith clenched up tighter, tucking more into himself.

Shiro winced, and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. (That was what he’d forgotten.) He draped it over one arm rather than put it on, then looked back to Keith.

This was new. They’d been seeing each other – Shiro was sure that was what it was – for months now, but Keith had never mentioned…this. He didn’t talk about himself much in general, and Shiro didn’t pry, preferring the warm feeling of reward and accomplishment when Keith trusted him with something personal on his own. But he looked to him now with an earnest affection and sympathy, only wanting to reassure.

“You don’t have to be ashamed,” he ventured, reaching out in tone if not in hand.

“I’m not ashamed,” Keith snapped. “I’m just…waiting for you to leave. So I can change.”

“You…don’t have to do that, either.”

Keith finally looked at him over his shoulder. Shiro smiled, more confident, loving and supportive and everything he wanted to convey to Keith in that moment, once he was sure he wouldn’t scare him off. He’d stumbled over the line just a little, realizing how corny it sounded halfway through, but he meant it. Keith didn’t have to change a single thing about himself.

Shiro liked him just the way he was.

He liked everything about him.

“Can I…?” He reached out one hand, tentatively gesturing to one of Keith’s shoulder straps that had twisted over itself. Keith blinked, not noticing it until Shiro stepped in closer, slipped two fingers under the lining. He straightened it, keeping his eyes down on Keith’s shoulder, before sneaking a quick peek up at his reflection in the mirror.

Keith eased out of his body lock an imperceptible amount, shivering just a little at the brush of Shiro’s fingers.

“You do look nice,” he said, voice low and breathy on Keith’s bare shoulder. Smiling as sincere as possible. “Really. Very—”

“Don’t say ‘pretty,’” Keith growled.

Shiro laughed. He touched Keith’s shoulders and bent his head to brush a soft kiss against his neck, voice moving against his skin.

“I was going to say ‘beautiful.’”

Keith’s breath staggered, the tension in him gone, replaced by a different sort. He leaned back against Shiro’s chest. Dropped his head to his shoulder. Shiro recognized the lowering of Keith’s guard, the silent permission, and slid his arms around him with a grateful sigh. He moved his hands to lay over Keith’s and intertwined their fingers, aligning their arms, easing them down and away to better see him in the mirror.

Keith closed his eyes, whimpering a small moan, feeling the press of an erection in his panties as excitement and arousal spun together through his senses. Letting Shiro touch him. Letting Shiro see him like this.

He figured it would have only been a matter of time before he found out anyway…or Keith told him.

Keith raised his arms, stretched them overhead, drawing his body long and taut before resting them around the back of Shiro’s neck. He held on with loosely clasped fingers, putting himself on display and allowing Shiro’s hands free roam. He felt Shiro’s breath falter against his neck, and smiled a certain smug satisfaction. Then Shiro’s hands began to wander, touching him, feeling over his body and exploring the simple pleasure of slippery fabrics as well with a slow, reverent wonder.

His slipped one strap of Keith’s bra down over his shoulder, kissing the spot where it had been. His hands spread over the flat of Keith’s chest, feeling their way down, thumb brushing over one pert nipple under the sheer material of a lacy cup.

Keith bit his lip and closed his eyes, barely stifling a groan.

He loved the way these felt against his body, but feeling them under Shiro’s hand was…was…

Keith didn’t think the term ‘ecstasy’ should be applied lightly, but it was all his brain would supply.

He gasped for breath and whimpered as Shiro’s hand ducked low, sneaking beneath the hem of the skirt to fondle him through his underwear. The skirt only reached the level of Keith’s upper thighs. Short. But it was enough for Shiro’s hand to disappear underneath, the visual of it in the mirror like a secret. Hiding something precious that only Keith knew.

Sometimes Keith got off on it. Quietly. Discreetly. Rubbing himself through satin and lace under the safety of his own bedsheets. He didn’t do it often, more worried about keeping the things clean – washing them wasn’t easy in a Garrison full of people – and with Shiro’s hands on him now he didn’t think doing it himself would ever hold the satisfaction it once had.

He pushed back against him, choking off a moan, his insides quivering and breath coming in short, shallow bursts as Shiro touched his lips and teeth to his shoulder, stroked him through the underwear, pressed over the flat of the bra and whispered quiet, heated words.

“My boy…my beautiful boy…”

Keith ground his teeth together, pleasure he hadn’t known he would find coiling tendrils of heat through his belly at the sound of those words.

He broke free, startling Shiro with its suddenness. He turned and his eyes flashed sharply through the fall of his hair as he planted one hand on Shiro’s chest, shoving him back towards the lower bed of the bunk. Shiro laughed a little and just managed to avoid hitting his head as he flopped down, landing with his legs parted enough for Keith to fill as he slid down on top of him, his kiss fierce and demanding more of his hands.


End file.
